Reality Lies
by Aquila-de-Sakura
Summary: Everything works out in dreams. No matter how much a scenario is coated with doubt or how well it can be explained, the outcome is still a controlled varible. How much can truly be shielded from reality? A continuation fic of bookgodess15's Self Stripping


Ok, this is my 'pilot' so-to-speak of the first chapter. This is based off of **bookgodess15**'s fic: **Self Stripping**. It is excellently written and an innovative piece of work. In fact I forbid you from reading this fic until you read **Self Stripping** first!

Disclaimer: The first part of this chapter is dialogue from 3x04 "Lines in the Sand"; and the last part is based off of the final scene of 3x04. I don't own House in its entirety; I don't even own this idea! Again, to see the fic from which this is based please read **bookgodess15**'s **Self Stripping** (I recieved her permission to do this by the way).

Please enjoy!

* * *

_"There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who face reality; and then there are those who turn one into the other." - _Douglas Everett

* * *

"Ten-year-old boy screams for his life for no reason."

House walked around his padded room and pantomimes throwing something down. He pauses as if he heard an answer and then continues pacing around the room, annoyed.

"And he went to three different doctors who all said just that."

House mimes opening a door and continues to pace around the room annoyed and in search of something.

"Or it's something medically sounding like dysesthsia. Parents are convinced there is something wrong with their son."

* * *

A man – who looked younger than he was – sat outside the padded room and stared at the man through the glass of the viewing window. As he observed the man's behavior, he diligently took notes on the man's words and actions. A bag of books rested beside him: books that deciphered medical jargon and books of his own authorship.

"Mr. Wilson."

He looked up to see a doctor approaching him and he gave a slight nod of approval, gesturing for the man to take a seat beside him.

"Good evening, Dr. Foreman."

"Here for more inspiration?"

Wilson inwardly cringed at hearing the word 'inspiration', but held his outward composure. "Maybe he's starting to get out of it. A while ago he believed he was getting out of a hallucination."

"Yet he's still here at square one; don't get your hopes up." Foreman then realized what he had said. "But you understand him better than any of us. Those books you write help you and all of us understand the world he sees, which, in turn, might lead us to the source of his problem."

Wilson gave a bitter chuckle. "That might be, however; I've been here long enough to know that if any progress is to be made, it has to start with him." He paused. "Stubborn jerk. Sometimes I wonder if he's doing this on purpose."

Foreman smirked slightly. "So when's the next volume coming out?"

"Soon. I submitted the manuscript about two weeks ago. The series is unexpectedly growing popular; who knew this jerk could be so loveable?"

Foreman gave a slight laugh. "I guess people love to read about rude doctors who pull outrageous stunts that miraculously save your life. An old colleague recently told me that they had a patient who described every little detail of their house so they 'wouldn't have to rough up the place when they searched'."

Wilson laughed at the thought. "Oh my, I honestly never thought the books would be this popular; soon doctors and the medical boards will be after me! And if it's not that, it's the smart alec fans who write to me about the 'medical inaccuracies'. You wouldn't believe how many letters I get pointing them out. What's worse is that I barely understand what they're talking about."

"I'm glad I went into research instead of having to deal with paranoid patients. Didn't I almost die in one of his 'episodes'?"

"Yeah – rather dramatically too. I wonder how many critiques I'll get about that."

Foreman turned his gaze to the man through the window. "I wonder what people will do if they find out he's based off a real person?"

"Oh goodness..." Wilson chuckled, as his gaze turned back to House's room.

At this time House was staring down at something with annoyance in his face, and then suddenly started to bring his right arm down heavily as if he was banging something on the ground. "Attica! Attica..." House shouted, confusing his two observers. However, he failed to notice them and continued with his one-word argument. Wilson shrugged and wrote down this new occurrence.

"I doubt anyone would believe he really exists."

* * *

Night fell and House was sleeping, but he still was not alone. It had been a while since Wilson and Foreman left and his other visitor preferred it to be that way. He faithfully came to visit House every night during hours that would have few to no visitors. His arrival was determined by his profession, and mostly his own choice. He sat outside quietly with his hands clasped and his head resting on them. 

"Coffee?"

The man looked up in surprise at the steaming cup being offered to him, but his surprise disappeared when he saw the white-sleeved arm that was offering it to him.

"It's late, shouldn't you be heading home?"

The doctor took a seat beside him after he accepted the coffee. "I'm just checking up on a patient."

The man silently nodded and they both drank their coffees. The man's gaze drifted to the engagement ring on her hand and she caught him looking. "So, when's the wedding?"

"I don't know," she replied with a wry smile. "The groom-to-be won't decide on a day."

"Maybe he's not the one for you."

She smiled in surprise. "You're daring tonight. Bad day at work?"

The man's facial expression then changed into a smile. "Good actually. Not many accidents and we managed to save everyone today." He stared into the room and then down at his coffee; his expression faded. "I wish there could be more days like this."

She placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's been thirty years Chase. You need to let this go, it wasn't your fault."

Chase looked up again at the patient before them and disregarded the current topic. "He sleeps peacefully except for the painful twitching every hour or so."

The doctor jotted the findings down. "Same as every night, no changes."

Chase sat back, "Of course I don't think a lowly paramedic should be the one watching him."

"_Head_ paramedic." She corrected him. "And if he isn't at least watching Mr. House then why is he always visiting past visiting hours?"

"Because he's engaged to the head of the psychology department and she lets him get away with some perks."

"If you keep flirting like this you won't be engaged for very long." She quickly turned back to her writings.

Chase mimicked a face as if he had been punch in the gut. "Oooh, I'm sorry. Promise not to tell my fiancée."

"Only if you promise not to tell mine."

Chase nodded, smiling as he gathered his things. "You think we've been engaged for too long? Marriage is a big commitment; I just think we shouldn't rush into it."

"That's true." She turned back to her notes as House flinched in pain, stealing her attention. After a few minutes of watching helplessly, House stopped and went back to a peaceful state. "I hate that there's nothing we can do."

"Cameron..." Chase said firmly as he put his hand over hers, but comforting words failed to come to his mind. "At least he's happy in his world."

* * *

Cuddy sat at her computer late at night with only a stale cup of coffee and business documents to keep her company. She worked furiously into the night and later rose from her desk only to mark dates on her master calendar.

"So the eleventh is the international board meeting, and the twenty-fifth is the benefactors' banquet. The twenty-sixth is when I leave for the conference..." Cuddy circled that day with a big red circle so she would be sure not to forget. She then turned her attention back to her organizer to mark off more important dates.

"The conference will begin on the first and will be held in… let's see -" she then gripped her pen tightly when she saw the location, but she held her composure. "Princeton, New Jersey." She paused for a moment, and then exhaled loudly. "The conference ends on the fourth." Cuddy capped her pen in finality when she had no more important dates to mark off until May. She then retreated to her bed and collapsed onto it, trying to let her mind focus on the topic of her vacation; however, it wandered to other things.

Suddenly, her telephone rang, jarring her from her less-than-pleasant thoughts. She failed to answer the phone on time and her answering machine began to record.

_"Cuddy? It's Wilson..."_

Those words were all it took for Cuddy to leave the room in an attempt to get out of earshot, searching for something, _anything_, to keep her from listening. The bathroom was far enough away, and the layers of wall and tile blocked out any noise from the telephone, so she sought relief there, deciding to take a shower. As the hot steam encompassed her body her mind was filled with memories of an earlier, happier time.

She saw two young children – a boy and girl – who were often seen together. The boy was older than the girl by a few years. He had a characterizing, playful smirk on his face that betrayed his activeness and knack for trouble. The boy enjoyed reading books that people many years older than him would have trouble reading; he also enjoyed just sitting and practicing in people-watching, and he pointed out detailed observations about his targets while the girl could only stare in awe.

"House..." Cuddy said softly when another memory came to her mind.

The memory this time was much more unpleasant and came in flashes. She saw a tall, teenage boy and a car. She heard the screeching of the tires and the collision of the impact. She remembered the blood.

Cuddy turned off the shower and began the routine of drying off. She tried to push the memory from her mind, but her efforts were in vain. _My sins are permanent…._

She walked back into her bedroom, drying her hair, and pushed 'play' on her answering machine.

_"Cuddy? It's Wilson. There haven't been any changes in his behavior. Were you able to get the copies of my book that I've been sending? That's the world he sees. Maybe if you could visit him? Maybe if you visited he…" _Cuddy could tell Wilson was scrambling for words. _"Maybe it would do you both some good if you could come see each other." _The answering machine beeped as a signal that the message was finished.

Cuddy pressed 'delete' and as the machine affirmed her action, she laid on her bed trying to get to sleep, but found that sleep was again eluding her.

* * *

_House wandered out onto his balcony after a long day of work. He fingered the recently given PSP in his left hand and looked back at the recently replaced carpet, with a bloodstain – his blood - in his office. His gaze then looked up at the night sky and he recalled Cameron's words, _"All change is bad? It's not true you know."_ He closed his eyes and wondered about the world before him._

* * *

Again, I take no credit for any joy you may have recieved from reading this as it all belongs to **bookgodess15** and her fic **Self Stripping**. However, if you hated this fic and wasted your time then that's my fault and I'm sorry. Constructive critism is appriciated and chapter two is in the works.

Thank you's go to:

**Sara D** - My awesome beta who willingly corrects my abuse of the English language.

**bookgodess15 **- Who allowed me to continue from her awesome fic **Self Stripping**.


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